I received a of of email from friends and acquaintances regarding my found engagement ring a few months ago. Queries ranged from “You have an engagement ring?” to “It means you were meant to be!” to “Why would you wear a diamond ring in Africa?” (For the record, Yes, I do have an engagement ring. No, it does not involve a big diamond or any other large protruding stone. That would have been hugely impractical ahead of a year of travel. And even if we were home, I’m just not a rock-on-the-hand kind of girl. It is a simple understated affair that looks more like a wedding band. I wear it on my right hand.)
Anyhow, in light of the response I got, I thought some of you would enjoy the following tale.
In October, as we were preparing to take the bus from Namibia to South Africa, I looked down and my ring was no longer on my finger. We searched everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. Finally, we resigned ourselves to the idea that it was gone forever.
About six weeks later, I did a total re-pack of my bag as we left Thailand for India. I’d need scarves on top instead of sarongs for the next few weeks. Once everything was back in my pack I noticed one item on still on the floor: My ring.
(Because I posted this, I will probably lose it permanently tomorrow.)